


interlacing

by lostinthefire



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, M/M, needleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthefire/pseuds/lostinthefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The same act at two different points.</p>
            </blockquote>





	interlacing

She lays on her stomach, body stretched out against the table as she enjoys the cool feeling of it's surface against her skin (looking at him, it's like he's a contented cat, all laze and comfort with his stomach pressing against their floor and eyes half closed). There's a blindfold around her eyes but she's relaxed, her breathing slow and steady.

(He's never been good at letting himself be blindfolded though when the right sort of challenge is presented, he's been known to let such things change.)

He's behind her (he's being watched and he knows it), his hands running against her back as he tells her to breath (the gap closes between them and hands meet skin and mouths meet skin and they're up to old games again, the same ones they keep playing over and over again). She does so, careful and assured, a calculated action timed perfectly to match his.

(Their heartbeats fall in time but their breathing never done. One of them is almost always a little more out of breath, a little more strained. The question is, which one of them would it be this time?)

He drags the needle over her skin (it's all nails with them. Nails and teeth and occasionally other things but they've never been good at keeping their hands off each other), not piercing, just teasing, letting her know that it's there (the needles are stolen. If their owner ever gets to see them again, it's because the game got dull faster than either of them thought). She tenses but only for a moment before she forces her body to relax, her breathing growing even deeper.

(It's a struggle but he's on his stomach, squirming but not as much as he could. He's curious, ever so curious, to see how this goes. He's never played this game before, maybe it will prove to be an interesting one. He steadies his breathing and closes his eyes.)

He takes care when he's working with the needles (they stumble though it, as much as anyone can stumble through such a process. A steady hand is applied but the artistic eye isn't there), each one sliding in with a precision that seemed almost unnatural. He weaves needles all though her back, his pace slowing when he hears her breathing change (his breath never changes, or he tries to not let it. Sometimes it turns out to be a minor loss but he pushes past it). The patterns though, they are a thing of beauty (the patterns themselves fall into simplistic designs against his back, nothing spectacular but neither of them give a damn about artistic value).

(His head spins, his limbs feel like they're flying and his body tenses. He wasn't fond of this, this bizarre loss of control that has washed over him. If he had more of a mind, he'd feel sick with himself.)

The sensations leave her reeling, leave her feeling like she's in the air, floating above everything. She tells him so, tells him how he's made her feel and the Master leans back, arms crossing as he watches Lucy, a triumphant expression on his face.

(Koschei sits back against their bed, watching Theta on the floor, posture nothing but triumphant.)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me elsewhere:  
> [My DW](http://rootsofthestories.dreamwidth.org) (which I use regularly)  
> [My Tumblr](http://analtarofstars.tumblr.com/) (which I am very rarely on)  
> [My Twitter](http://twitter.com/harvestgraces) (which I am on at random)


End file.
